87.

Murad paced the length of his office, each step heavy with the weight of anxiety. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows that crept into the room, mingling with the darkness that settled around him like a shroud. The glow from his desk lamp provided little comfort, illuminating the stark lines of his face but failing to chase away the growing dread gnawing at him. Taliya was out there, somewhere in the abyss of danger, and every passing moment felt like a knife twisting deeper into his gut.

Just then, Uncle Hashim entered the room, his expression grave and solemn. Murad could see the worry etched into his features, a reflection of his own turbulent emotions. “Murad, we need to talk,” he said, his voice low and measured.

Murad stopped pacing abruptly, turning to face Hashim, worry and confusion merging in his expression. “What is it, Uncle? Is it about Taliya? Did you find something?”

Hashim shook his head slowly, taking a deep breath as he settled into a chair across from Murad, the weight of the world resting heavily on his shoulders. “No, but we need to discuss someone important—Faraz.”

“Faraz?” Murad furrowed his brow, the name unfamiliar to him. “Who is that? I’ve never heard of him.”

“Faraz is your stepbrother,” Hashim explained, his voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of concern. “He’s the son of your father’s second wife. Your father wanted to protect you from the complications that came with his marriage. But Faraz grew up in the shadows of your family, always feeling like he didn’t belong.”

Murad’s heart raced as he tried to process this new information. “A stepbrother? Why wasn’t I told? Did Dad think I couldn’t handle it?”

“Your father hoped that if you didn’t know about Faraz, you wouldn’t be affected by the turmoil surrounding him,” Hashim continued, his tone growing more serious. “But that decision might have cost us dearly. Faraz’s feelings of inadequacy and jealousy may have festered into something dangerous.”

A chill ran down Murad’s spine, an uncomfortable realization dawning on him. “What are you saying? Are you suggesting he’s involved in Taliya’s kidnapping?”

“I believe he might be,” Hashim said, leaning forward, urgency in his eyes. “Faraz has a history of resentment towards you, especially after your father’s death. He’s always been jealous of the way your father favored you, and now, with Taliya being your girlfriend, she may represent a vulnerability he wants to exploit.”

Murad ran a hand through his hair, frustration and disbelief churning within him. “But why would he want to hurt Taliya? What does he gain from this?”

Hashim sighed, his brow furrowed in thought. “Faraz has been trying to make a name for himself, to prove he’s more than just a shadow. He might see kidnapping Taliya as a way to destabilize you, to inflict pain, and to draw attention to himself. It’s a twisted way of seeking power and validation.”

“I still don’t understand,” Murad replied, shaking his head, trying to wrap his mind around the situation. “How can I not know about my own stepbrother? Why was he never mentioned?”

“Because your father thought keeping you separated from that world would keep you safe,” Hashim replied, his eyes narrowing. “But now we can’t ignore the connections anymore. If Faraz is behind this, we need to tread carefully. He’s a dangerous man, capable of things you wouldn’t expect.”

Murad’s fingers clenched into fists, the weight of Hashim’s words settling heavily in his chest. “What do we do? How do we find Taliya?”

“We need to gather more information,” Hashim suggested, his voice steady despite the gravity of their situation. “We must track down Faraz’s whereabouts and figure out who he’s been associating with. He’s not a straightforward person, and we can’t underestimate his cunning.”

“Agreed,” Murad said, determination hardening his resolve. “I can’t let him get away with this. If he’s involved in Taliya’s disappearance, I’ll make sure he pays for it.”

“Be cautious, Murad. Confronting him could lead to danger,” Hashim warned, his gaze intense. “He may not be the same boy you once knew.”

“I’ll set up a meeting,” Murad said, a steely determination setting in. “I need to know where he stands. If he’s involved in Taliya’s kidnapping, he’ll regret it.”

Hashim stood, placing a firm hand on Murad’s shoulder, a gesture of solidarity. “We’re in this together. Just promise me you’ll stay alert. You can’t let your emotions cloud your judgment.”

“I promise,” Murad replied, his heart racing with a mix of fear and resolve. “I’ll do whatever it takes to bring Taliya back.”

The moon hung high over the island, casting a silver glow that illuminated the world in a soft, ethereal light. Taliya sat on the edge of her bed, the faint sounds of waves crashing against the shore echoing through the open window. The eerie quiet of the house surrounded her, amplifying her thoughts and worries. She felt the gnawing hunger in her stomach, a reminder that she hadn’t eaten since her abduction. The pangs intensified, driving her from her bed in search of food.

Slipping out of her room, she made her way down the dimly lit hallway, the wooden floor creaking softly under her feet. The house felt foreign and imposing, its shadows stretching in the flickering light from the lanterns that hung on the walls. Taliya paused outside the kitchen door, inhaling deeply. The kitchen, though large and spacious, felt empty and cold, devoid of any warmth or comfort.

Pushing the door open, she stepped inside, her heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. She moved to the pantry, her hands trembling as she swung the door wide, but her hopes quickly faded. The shelves were bare, save for a few scattered spices and an empty jar. Taliya sighed, disappointment washing over her. She rummaged through the drawers, searching for any scraps, but found nothing more than dull knives and old utensils.

Just as she was about to give up, the sound of footsteps echoed behind her. Startled, Taliya turned to see Faraz entering the kitchen, his demeanor relaxed as if he belonged there. “What are you doing up at this hour?” he asked, a sly grin playing on his lips.

Taliya stiffened, the tension in the air palpable. “I was looking for food,” she replied, trying to sound casual, but her voice betrayed her nervousness.

Faraz chuckled softly. “Food? You won’t find much in this house. But I could whip something up.” He moved toward the stove, the light casting a glow on his face, revealing an unsettling blend of charm and menace.

“No, that’s okay,” Taliya said quickly, stepping back as he reached for a pan. “I can make something for myself.”

“Really? And what can you make?” he challenged, raising an eyebrow as he cracked a couple of eggs into the pan, the sizzling sound filling the kitchen.

“Pancakes,” Taliya replied defiantly, feeling a surge of determination. She walked over to the counter, searching for the ingredients she needed. “I can make pancakes.”

Faraz smirked, flipping the eggs with ease. “Pancakes? How charming. You really think you can do better than this?” He gestured to the pan, where the eggs cooked slowly, the rich aroma filling the air.

“Yes, I do!” Taliya shot back, her voice firmer now. She pulled a bowl from the cupboard and began rummaging through the pantry again, desperately searching for flour or sugar. “I’m not eating your eggs.”

“Suit yourself,” Faraz replied, amusement dancing in his eyes. “But you’ll be missing out. These eggs are going to be fantastic.”

Taliya found a small bag of flour in the back of the pantry, hidden behind a canister of salt. Relief flooded through her as she set it on the counter. “I’ll manage on my own,” she insisted, her voice steady.

With quick movements, she poured flour into the bowl, added a pinch of salt, and measured out milk. As she whisked the ingredients together, she could feel Faraz’s eyes on her, scrutinizing her every move. The tension was thick, but she tried to focus, channeling her nerves into the task at hand. “You don’t have to watch me,” she said, glancing over her shoulder.

“I find it fascinating,” he replied, leaning against the counter with a casual air. “You’re trying so hard, but this is futile. You think you can just make pancakes and everything will be fine?”

“Why does it matter to you?” Taliya snapped, her frustration boiling over. “You’re not the one who’s going to eat them!”

“True,” he admitted, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “But I’m curious to see how well you can make them. Maybe you’ll surprise me.”

Taliya ignored his taunts, pouring the batter onto the hot griddle she had managed to find. The mixture sizzled upon contact, a comforting sound that calmed her racing heart. She poured another round, watching the pancakes bubble and rise, the sweet aroma enveloping her.

“Looks like you might actually pull this off,” Faraz said, his tone lighter now. “But I still think my eggs are the better choice.”

Taliya rolled her eyes, flipping the pancakes with newfound confidence. “If you like eggs so much, why don’t you just eat them? I don’t care what you think.”

“Maybe I will,” he teased, stepping closer to the griddle, peering at her work. “But I still think I could make better pancakes if I wanted to.”

“Then go ahead and try!” she challenged, turning to face him, her heart pounding with both fear and defiance. “But I’m making these for myself.”

Faraz studied her for a moment, the humor fading from his eyes as he regarded her with something more serious. “You really think you can handle this situation on your own, don’t you?”

“I have to,” Taliya replied, her voice firm. “I’m not going to let you or anyone else dictate my choices. I will fight for myself.”

“Fighting doesn’t always mean cooking pancakes,” Faraz said, his tone shifting. “You need to be smart, Taliya. Know when to pick your battles.”

“Maybe cooking is my battle,” she shot back, flipping the last pancake onto a plate, a sense of victory swelling within her. “And I won.”

“Fine, enjoy your pancakes,” he replied, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice. “Just don’t think they’ll save you.”

“I’m not looking for saving,” Taliya said, her resolve strengthening. “I’m just trying to survive.”

With that, Taliya turned away, plating her pancakes with a sense of accomplishment. She could hear Faraz’s footsteps receding as he returned to the stove to finish his eggs. The kitchen felt less suffocating now, her small victory giving her a semblance of control amidst the chaos of her life.

As she took the first bite of her pancakes, the warmth spread through her, not just from the food but from the knowledge that she could still find moments of normalcy, even in the darkest of circumstances. Each bite fortified her spirit, a reminder that she was not just a victim in this game. She was a survivor, determined to find a way back to her freedom.